There was a little piece of advice upon the envelope—“When you cash the draft take the number of your notes.” This was all; and it was carefully attended to by Newton, who took but 20 pounds, and left the remainder in the hands of the banker. The next day Newton called upon the East India Director, who gave him a letter to the captain of the ship, lying at Gravesend, and expecting to sail in a few days. To Gravesend he immediately repaired, and, presenting his credentials, was favourably received; with an intimation that his company was required as soon as convenient. Newton had now no other object to occupy him than to secure an asylum for his father; and this he was fortunate enough to meet with when he little expected. He had disembarked at Greenwich, intending to return to London by the coach, when having an hour to spare, he sauntered into the hospital, to view a building which had so much of interest to a sailor. After a few minutes’ survey, he sat down on a bench, occupied by several pensioners, outside of the gate, wishing to enter into conversation with them relative to their condition, when one addressed the other—“Why, Stephen, since the old man’s dead, there’s no one that’ll suit us; and I expects that we must contrive to do without blinkers at all. Jim Nelson told me the other day, that the fellow in town as has his shop full of polished brass, all the world like the quarter-deck of the Le Amphitrite, when that sucking Honourable (what was his name?) commanded her—Jim said to me, as how he charged him one-and-sixpence for a new piece of flint for his starboard eye. Now you know that old Wilkins never axed no more than threepence. Now, how we’re to pay at that rate, comes to more than my knowledge. Jim hadn’t the dirt, although he had brought his threepence; so his blinkers are left there in limbo.”
“We must find out another man: the shop’s to let, and all handy. Suppose we speak to the governor?”
“No use to speak to the governor; he don’t use blinkers; and so won’t have no fellow feeling.”
Newton entered into conversation, and found that an old man, who gained his livelihood in a small shop close to the gate, by repairing the spectacles of the pensioners, had lately died, and that his loss was severely felt by them, as the opticians in town did not work at so reasonable a rate. Newton looked at the shop, which was small and comfortable, commanding a pleasant view of the river, and he was immediately convinced that it would suit his father. On his return, he proposed it to Nicholas, who was delighted at the idea; and the next day they viewed the premises together, and took a short lease. In a few days Nicholas was settled in his new habitation, and busily employed in enabling the old pensioners to read the newspapers and count their points at cribbage. He liked his customers, and they liked him. His gains were equal to his wants; and, unless on particular occasions—such as a new coat, which, like his birth-day, occurred but once a year,—he never applied to the banker’s for assistance. Newton, as soon as his father was settled and his own affairs arranged, called upon his uncle previous to his embarkation. Old Forster gave a satisfactory “humph!” to his communication: and Newton, who had tact enough to make his visit short, received a cordial shake of the hand when he quitted the room.
Volume Two--Chapter Thirteen.
Poor short-lived things! what plane we lay!
Ah! why forsake our native home,
To distant climates speed away.
For self sticks close, where’er we roam.
Care follows hard, and soon o’ertakes
The well-rigg’d ship; the warlike steed
Her destin’d quarry ne’er forsakes:
Nor the wind flees with half the speed.
Cowper.
Newton, who had made every preparation, as soon as he had taken leave of his uncle, hastened to join his ship, which still remained at Gravesend, waiting for the despatches to be closed by the twenty-four leaden heads, presiding at Leadenhall Street. The passengers, with the exception of two, a Scotch presbyterian divine and his wife, were still on shore, divided amongst the inns of the town, unwilling until the last moment to quit terra firma for so many months of sky and water, daily receiving a visit from the captain of the ship, who paid his respects to them all round, imparting any little intelligence he might have received as to the probable time of his departure.
When Newton arrived on board, he was received by the first-mate, a rough, good-humoured, and intelligent man, about forty years of age, to whom he had already been introduced by the captain, on his previous appearance with the letter from the director.